Clive Cussler - Lost Empire

SAM SHOULD HAVE COMPENSATED for the Ikarus’s edge. It was closer to three hours before the coastline appeared through the windshield. Sam put the plane through an abbreviated checklist and began his descent. He banked gently to the north and pointed the nose at the mouth of the crescent-shaped bay. In the rear seat beside Remi-who, as instructed, had taken the seat behind Sam’s-Rivera leaned forward for a better view.“It’s a small bay,” he remarked.

“A quarter-mile wide at the mouth and three-quarters of a mile at its widest. Six islands.”

“And you’re sure Chicomoztoc is one of them?”

“I never said I was sure. It’s my best guess based on everything we know. You seem to be forgetting that we managed to do in a few weeks what you couldn’t accomplish in almost a decade.”

“Belated congratulations,” said Rivera. “How did you find it?” “Long story, but in a minute you’ll see what put the frosting on the cake. The question is, will you recognize it?”As Sam dropped the Ikarus through a thousand feet, they passed between the headlands and into the bay.

“Where is it?” Rivera asked.

“Patience.”

A minute later Sam turned the nose slightly off center to let the thickly forested island pass beneath the starboard wing. “Out the side window,” he said.

Rivera leaned sideways and looked down. “This is it?” he asked incredulously. “It’s tiny.”

“Three hundred yards across and two hundred feet off the water.”

“It’s not big enough to be an island.”

“An islet, then. Either way, it’s what you’ve been looking for.”

“Why is the center concave?”

“It’s called a caldera. You’re looking at an extinct volcano,” replied Sam. “You still don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?”

“Remi?”

With a nod of approval from Rivera, Remi leaned over his shoulder and looked out the window.

Sam said, “Squint. Think ‘big hollowed-out flower.’”

A beaming smile spread across Remi’s face. “Sam, you found it.”

“We’ll soon find out. Do you see it yet, Rivera?”

“No.”

“You’re familiar with the traditional illustration depicting Chicomoztoc? Imagine that illustration viewed from above. Now imagine the points of the island rounded and more pronounced.”After a few moments Rivera murmured, “I see it. Amazing. Amazing! Take us down!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, damn it, take us down!”

“Whatever you say.”

Passing through two hundred feet, Sam banked the Ikarus one last time, following the bay’s western shoreline until the plane’s nose was again pointed north. Thirty seconds later, the pontoons kissed the surface; the Ikarus’s fuselage shivered and the windows rattled. Sam kept a slightly nose-up attitude, bumping over the surface as his speed bled off.He watched the needle drop to sixty knots, then fifty. When it slid past forty knots, he said, “Remi, how many sleeping bags do we have?”

She leaned forward in her seat, picked up the pile of bags, and placed them in her lap. “I’ve got three.”

“And I’ve got one,” Sam replied, pointing to the bag stuffed between his seat and the passenger seat. “Rivera, how many do you have?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Sam’s eyes flicked to the dashboard. The needle hit thirty-five knots. He turned toward the man in the passenger seat. “How about you?”

The man opened his mouth to reply but the words never came out. In one fluid motion, Sam dropped his right hand diagonally down, punched the man’s seat-belt release, then grabbed the sleeping bag, brought it to his chest, and shoved the stick forward.The Ikarus nosed over and slammed into the water.

HAVING NEVER INTENTIONALLY CRASH-LANDED BEFORE, SAM had a plan that was a combination of gut instinct and a fair grasp of physics. Traveling at thirty knots-roughly thirty-four miles per hour-the Ikarus had enough kinetic energy to throw everyone inside violently forward against their seat belts but not enough to throw the seaplane into a nose-over-tail tumble.The impact was also enough to rip the passenger seat and the seat behind it free of the mounts that Sam had preloosened before leaving the airstrip.

Rivera’s man in the passenger seat, already unbelted, was driven headfirst into the windshield, snapping his neck and killing him. Rivera, still belted in, flew forward and slammed into the back of the passenger seat, while Sam, clutching the sleeping bag in front of his face and chest, smashed into the dashboard. In the backseat Remi’s impact was cushioned by two sleeping bags. She was the first to regain consciousness after the impact.

SHE RELEASED HER BELT and heaved herself forward between the seats. She grabbed Sam by the shoulders and eased him backward. Water was gushing into the cabin through the hole left in the windshield by Rivera’s man. Already nose down in the water, the Ikarus began tipping forward under the weight of its engine, lifting the tail from the water.“Sam!” Remi shouted. “Sam!”

His eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times, looked around. “Did it work?” he asked.

“We’re both alive. I’d call that a success.”

“What about Rivera?”

Remi looked at Rivera, who lay slumped forward, bent at the waist.

“Unconscious or dead. I don’t know and I don’t care. We need to think about leaving, Sam.”

“How about right now?”

“Great!”

Sam braced his feet against the dashboard, fighting gravity, then punched the button to release his seat belt. He tried his door. It didn’t budge. He tried again. “My door’s jammed. Try Rivera’s door.”

“He’s blocking it.” Sam pressed with his legs and arched his back, sliding his upper body into the backseat. “Get his belt.” Remi hit the release. Rivera slid forward into Sam’s outstretched hands. He let gravity do the rest, and Rivera tumbled headfirst onto the remains of the passenger seat and his dead friend.Remi crawled across the seat and grabbed the door handle. “Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

“Deep breath!”

SHE MUSCLED THE DOOR OPEN. A column of water surged into the cabin. They let the cabin fill up, then Remi shoved off and swam out. Sam was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned back. He kicked into the front seat and started probing the floorboard with his hands. Under the dead man’s left boot Sam found what he was looking for: the semiautomatic pistol the man had been holding. He tucked it into his belt.He made his way back out and kicked for the surface. He broke into the air beside Remi. Ten feet to their right the plane’s tail was jutting straight out of the water.

“It’s not going down,” Remi said.

“Probably a pocket of air in the tail. I’m going back down to see what I can salvage. My plan didn’t include that part. I’ll meet you on the beach.”

Sam took in a lungful of air, flipped over, and dove. His outstretched hand found the leading edge of the wing, and he pulled himself across the fuselage, then down into the doorway.He stopped.

Rivera was gone. Sam looked into the tail section, saw nothing, and checked the front seat again. He saw movement out of the corner of his right eye and turned his head. A shadow rushed toward his face. He felt something hard strike his forehead. Pain flashed behind his eyes, and everything went dark.“SAM!” HE HEARD DISTANTLY. The voice faded, then returned. “Sam!”

He felt hands on his face. He knew that touch: Remi. He forced his eyes open. She was leaning over him, her auburn hair dripping onto his face. She smiled. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Very funny. None. I’m okay. Help me sit up.”“Just stay there. You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead.”